


What Comes Before

by sandwich_armada



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwich_armada/pseuds/sandwich_armada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry nuzzles up into Nick's hand in his hair, the last of his giggles trailing off into happy little sighs.  'You started it.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes Before

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This fiction, while based on the public personas of real people, is not intended to assume or assert any kind of truth about the sexualities, relationships, or proclivities of those portrayed herein. It is, in a word, fake. 
> 
> If you've found this story by googling yourself, for the love of all things bright and beautiful, backspace the hell out of here. This is Not For You. 
> 
> Mistakes are all my own, please let me know if you catch anything egregious. Thanks to [lately](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lately/pseuds/lately) for reading this over and telling me it was good. Even if I kind of made you say that. ♥

The lube makes a loud, squelching 'pthbthb' of a noise when Harry squeezes it out onto his fingers. There's a perfect split-second of utter silence, and then Harry looks up to meet Nick's gaze with the most ridiculously affronted, horrified look on his face, and that's it, they're both laughing too hard to breathe.

' _Rude_ ,' gasps Nick, his stomach starting to ache from laughing, 'So rude, I know bumming is already pretty low on dignity but that is just _over the line_ , Styles.'

Harry has faceplanted down into Nick's belly, keeping his lubed-up fingers off the bedspread in an awkward claw-like pose as he fairly cries with laughter. 'Wasn't on _purpose_ , Nick, Jesus, you're worse than me and I am _actually a teenage boy_.'

Nick can't feel his cheeks, he's grinning so hard. He grabs a handful of Harry's curls, stroking them back off of his forehead so he can see to thumb away the tears of laughter with his other hand. 'Yeah, but you're still laughing. Where's this supposedly-sophisticated sense of humour now, hmm?'

Harry nuzzles up into Nick's hand in his hair, the last of his giggles trailing off into happy little sighs. 'You started it.'

Nick gasps in mock horror. 'I did not.'

'Did too.'

'Did not.'

'Did toooooo,' Harry whines out, turning his face into the trail of hair leading south from Nick's belly button and using the 'O' shape of his lips to plant a sucking kiss there. 

And yes, okay, right. Sex. 

Nick bites his lip against a groan as arousal rushes dizzily back to the forefront of his awareness, his cock - gone closer to half-hard in their laughing fit - fattening back up. 'Did not,' he says, several long seconds too late, but he'll be damned if he gives in just because Harry's mouthing his way down Nick's belly. 

Harry hums a noncommittal noise in answer, absorbed in leaving what will probably be a spectacular love bite at the juncture of Nick's hip and his thigh. Nick can't quite hold back a breathy little whine at the almost-too-ticklish, too-hot, too-much feeling. He talks a good game, complaining about looking like he's been mugged by a school of angry lampreys every time he and Harry fuck, but secretly he kind of loves seeing the marks Harry leaves on his body, like a map of where his mouth and hands and fingers have been. When Harry's halfway around the world making girls weak in the knees, Nick can look down at the fading marks scattered across his chest, his hips, his inner thighs, and remind himself that this is really his life. That Harry really will come home to him. 

The slick brush of Harry's fingers over the sensitive skin behind his balls sends Nick's train of thought, such as it was, crashing to an abrupt halt. All the breath shudders from Nick's lungs as his hands clench involuntarily into fists, one of them still tangled up in Harry's hair. 

Harry, luckily for Nick, absolutely _loves_ having his hair pulled. He pulls away from the purpling skin of Nick's hip with a 'pop,' mouth dropping open in a shameless moan as he turns his head against the pull, stroking the pads of his fingers in little distracted circles against Nick's hole. His lips, wet and pink and perfect, graze up the shaft of Nick's cock as he pants, and Nick feels it like a punch in the base of his spine, his cock giving a little kick as he hardens all the way up.

Unfortunately, Harry's face is awfully close to Nick's cock, and when it jumps, it rebounds pretty soundly off of his forehead before smacking him right in the nose.

This time, there isn't even a second of silence before they're howling with laughter.

'You,' wheezes Harry, 'hit me, in the _face_. With your _dick_.' 

'Oh, my god,' says Nick, covering his blushing face with both hands, feeling tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes as he guffaws. 'That has _never happened before_. So of course, of _course_ it has to happen when I'm in bed with Harry Styles, internationally acclaimed superstar. Because this is the hell that is my life.' He peeks down at harry from between his fingers.

Harry laughs, wide and open and guileless, and damn him, his lips are still pink and his breath is still hot and humid and Nick is still _so_ turned on, despite the mortified hilarity. 'If you wanted to slap me with your manhood, Nick,' Harry giggles, eyes sparkling wickedly under his stupidly attractive sex hair, 'you should've just asked. We didn't even pick a safeword.'

Nick is either going to spontaneously combust in the cleansing fire of his humiliation, or rupture something from laughing so hard. He's not sure which death he'd prefer at this juncture. 

'This is STILL all your fault, you minx,' he huffs, the pretend-grumpy tone in his voice completely ruined by the embarrassed grin he can't get off his face. 'If you weren't such a bloody tease--' and then Nick's voice completely gives out, as Harry presses a finger into Nick in a single perfect push, all the way to the knuckle.

Harry quirks a challenging eyebrow up at nick where he's gulping, struggling to find what's happened to all of his words. 'What was that about teasing?' he drawls, crooking his finger slightly in a come-here sort of motion, and a hot, shivery wave breaks over Nick from the inside out. He bears down against Harry's hand in a helpless roll of his hips, and Harry smirks, pulls back enough to work a second finger in alongside the first as he leans down to mouth damply at Nick's balls. 

Nick's head is full of static, hearing tuned to the white noise between stations as his entire world narrows to the in-and-out rock of Harry's slippery fingers, the gentle stroke of his other hand on Nick's hipbone, the hot touch of his lips and tongue on ultra-sensitive skin as he licks and sucks. Nick thinks he might be the one making those breathy little 'ah, ah, ah' noises, but he can't quite get it together enough to be embarrassed. 

Harry's free hand trails from Nick's hipbone to the base of his cock, holding him steady with his thumb and forefinger as he works his way up the shaft in little kitten-licks. He smears his mouth over the head in a messy kiss, and Nick sucks in a shuddering breath, feels a blurt of precome dribble onto Harry's lips and - fuck - get licked away. 

Harry pulls up for a second, curling a loose fist around him and dragging his foreskin down as he grins up at Nick, mouth slick, eyes glazed, cheeks hectic-flushed, looking like sex personified. 'Think you can keep from hitting me in the face this time?' he asks, voice down half an octave but still teasing.

Nick huffs out a little laugh, hips hitching up into Harry's fist and back down into the press of his fingers - three of them now, and when that happened Nick really couldn't say. 'You should,' he gulps, mouth gone dry, 'you should be so lucky, to be dick-smacked by me, but, ah-' he stutters like a skipping record as Harry thumbs at the head of his cock, watching Nick's full-body shiver of a reaction while licking his lips, 'ngh, I'll do my, my best to contain myself,' Nick finishes, no longer really sure if he landed that joke but too far gone by half to care very much.

Harry seems pretty unconcerned as well. He holds Nick steady as he closes his perfect pink lips over Nick's cock, the flat of his tongue dragging wetwet heat as he slides down to kiss the top of his fist. Nick dimly feels like he's drowning, panting out a constant stream of whining moans as his cock goes impossibly harder. 

Then Harry hollows his cheeks and _sucks_ , scissoring his fingers to an impossible stretch inside of Nick, and that's it, that is _it_. Nick comes in Harry's mouth, taken by surprise at the suddenness of it, clutching helplessly at Harry's shoulders as he moans. Harry sucks him through it, swallowing, making hungry little noises in his throat as Nick rides back against his fingers, shocky and trembling.

Nick takes a deep, shuddering breath, then lets it out in a half-sigh, half-laugh as he shakes through an aftershock, thigh muscles twitching. Harry pulls off of his cock, looking up at Nick through his sweat-dampened curls like he's completely lost, like he can't quite catch his breath.

That makes two of them, then.

'Nick, can you--' Harry says, and Nick notices abruptly how Harry's hips are moving against the sheets, a constant little undulation like he can't quite stop himself. 'Can I--?' 

'Yeah,' Nick says, voice cracking a little, 'jesus, yes, get up here, c'mon.' he grabs Harry around the back of the neck and pulls weakly, limbs still spaghetti-limp. Harry gets his knees under him and crawls up Nick's body, catching him in a desperate kiss as he pulls his fingers free. Nick groans into the kiss, feeling too-empty and a little dizzy, and Harry moans out an answer and sucks on his tongue. He tastes overwhelmingly of Nick.

Nick gropes around for the lube, nearly knocking it off the bed in his clumsy haste, while Harry scrabbles for the condom he'd left sitting on the bedside table. He pulls back to kneel up as he tears open the packet, fingers shaking hard enough for Nick to see, and Nick is struck breathless all over again by how bloody endearing and lovely Harry Styles is. Despite all his fame and fortune, his world renown and his not-inconsiderable experience in the bedroom, Harry still gets completely overwhelmed by sex, sometimes. Like he can't quite believe how good it feels, or how turned on he is. He completely loses himself in fucking like nobody Nick has ever had before. 

Though Harry's not so completely lost right now that he'll miss the part where, when Nick opens up the lube and squeezes a dollop out onto his fingers, the bottle makes a slightly-quieter version of the same squelching noise. Harry snorts out a laugh as he rolls on the condom, and Nick giggles in answer, breathless. 'Rude,' he says, reaching for Harry with slippery fingers. Harry curls over on himself as Nick drags his hand over Harry's latex-covered cock, breath leaving his body in a huff like he's been punched, face a pained, slack sort of euphoric. He whines high in his throat, hand scrabbling to grab onto Nick's arm and cling to him, like he needs the anchor or he'll float away. 

And really, Nick thinks, they've dragged this out for far too long now.

'C'mon, just--' Nick wriggles closer to Harry on the bed, pulling his knees up toward his chest, toes grabbing at the muscles of Harry's back as he tries to reel him in. 'Please, c'mere, get--' and Nick knows he's babbling now, is dimly aware that he's more than halfway hard again, but he just, 'just, need you in me now, fucking come _on_ , Harry, just--' and Harry grabs Nick by the hips, grinning like he's lit from within, and yanks him up to rest over Harry's spread thighs, cradled half in his lap as he sits back on his heels on the bed and, lining up with a hand on himself and a hand on the inside of Nick's thigh, shoves up and _in_ in one smooth, inexorable push.

Nick's back bows, completely involuntarily, arching up on his shoulders in perfect, agonising bliss. Harry's not a small boy, by anyone's definition, and though they switch off pretty evenly in the bedroom it's been a long few weeks of tour promo and rehearsals and radio gigs, too-late nights and too-early mornings and no time for anything more strenuous than a snog and a quick wank, pressed together against the wall of the shower when Harry gets home, or trading half-awake blowjobs in the close, pre-dawn darkness of their bedroom before Nick has to drag himself out to work, and it's just. It's been a little while. 

Nick kind of secretly loves this, too, though. How big Harry feels inside him, how his body never quite gets used to him, no matter how many times they do this. In his sappier moments, lying here feeling unbearably, amazingly full, Nick thinks that it's because he doesn't ever want to take any of this, of him and Harry, for granted. 

Nick lets himself drop back onto the mattress, as much has he can while splayed out over Harry's thighs. Above him, Harry looks _wrecked_ , hair a sweaty mess sticking to his neck and forehead, eyes wild, bottom lip caught between his teeth and turning white as he bites down. He's holding himself so still inside Nick, ever the gentleman, but his hands are clenching and unclenching unconsciously where they're holding onto Nick's sides, and he's breathing through his nose like he's running a marathon. Nick reaches up and cards his trembling fingers through Harry's fringe, pushing it off his forehead, and Harry moves into it like a cat being stroked, eyes falling closed like he can't help himself. Nick moves his hand down to cup Harry's cheek, thumbing over his abused bottom lip, and Harry's mouth drops open, tongue darting out first to lick as he draws Nick's thumb into his mouth. 

And jesus christ, that is just _not playing fair_ , so Nick, with a strangled moan, draws his legs up to clench high up around Harry's sides, locks his ankles awkwardly together behind him, and rolls his hips back onto Harry's cock as hard as he can. 

Harry gasps around Nick's thumb, fucking up reflexively into Nick as he bears down; Nick gasps in turn, riding the surge of Harry's hips, and between them they stumble into a rhythm, slow for now, still adjusting. Harry slides in deep on every thrust, all the way in - Nick thinks crazily he can feel Harry in the tips of his fingers at the apex of each stroke, can taste him in the back of his throat. It's a _thorough_ fuck; there's no part of Nick that feels unfucked, in this moment, down to his toes curling in on themselves against the sweat-slick muscles of Harry's back.

But soon it's not enough for either of them, and Harry gets a firmer grip on Nick's hips, guiding them up and down in counterpoint to his quickening thrusts, the corded muscles of his arms thrown into beautiful relief by the strain. Nick is fully hard again now, leaking against his own belly as he gasps out little breathless moans, hands clenched in the bedspread as he works himself back onto Harry, meeting his rising tempo. It's not quite enough, though, and Nick lets go of the sheets with one hand, palming his cock with no real mind to rhythm or stroking, just holding on as he's gradually overwhelmed.

Harry watches him touch himself, gasping, expression going totally feral, and then surges forward, tipping Nick's knees back toward his chest in a stretch Nick will probably regret in the morning, falling forward to prop himself on one hand on the bed while he shakily grabs Nick's wrist, wraps his fingers around Nick's hand and prying it away, taking Nick's cock in hand and stroking in time as he fucks up into Nick.

'Can-- can you come again?' asks Harry, in a gravel-filtered voice like Nick rarely hears him use, and Nick _whimpers_ , nodding frantically. Harry can't get as deep from this new angle, but oh god, he's rubbing right up against exactly the right spot inside Nick with each little fuck of his hips, eyes dark and glassy and barely human as he licks his lips unconsciously, thumbs over the head of Nick's cock, and Nick tenses up with it, closecloseclose, and Harry's muttering 'C'mon, c'mon, wanna see you, want you to, please Nick--' and Nick does, coming and coming as the world going black and white and sepia in firework sparkles behind his eyelids.

Harry fucks him through it, just this side of too much, hungry eyes watching Nick come apart under him, all around him, and comes with a keening yell just as Nick is tipping over into the aftershocks, shaking and dizzy with the intensity of it. He collapses forward onto Nick's chest, forehead resting right over Nick's pounding heart, and Nick wraps his arms and his legs around him and just keeps him for a long moment, stroking his hair while they shudder and shiver and come down together. Their breathing gradually evens out, sweat starting to cool on Nick's sides and forehead, and Harry half-props himself up on one elbow and pulls out of Nick slowly, holding the condom on as he goes. Nick shudders a little at the feeling, and not in the good way - nothing quite so vile as the squelchy feeling of wet latex as it slithers out of your insides. Worth it, though, for all the stuff that comes before.

Heh. Comes before. 

Nick snickers at himself quietly as Harry half-heartedly tucks the used condom back into the foil wrapper and drops it onto Nick's bedside table. Which--

'Ugh,' says Nick, lip curled in exaggerated disgust, 'Come on now, Styles, can't even be arsed to toss it at the bin?'

Harry grins, unrepentant, and drops back onto his elbows over Nick. 'Do you, or do you not, fancy a cuddle right now, more than you fancy the prospect of me getting up off of you to pick up the damn condom when I inevitably miss the bin, leaving you cold and lonely here on the bed for a whole thirty seconds?' 

He does have a valid point, there. Nick doesn't say anything, but his face must give him away because Harry's grin goes even more smug. 

'Then shut the fuck up, hmm?' he says, snuggling down into Nick in a lovely sweaty-dirty-warm wriggle, tucking his face into Nick's neck and heaving a contented sigh. Nick smiles, twines one of his legs around one of Harry's and gathering him up into his arms. 

Moments like these, here in the supernova heart of the afterglow, are the only times he really bothers to try to put words to the feelings he has for Harry, to classify the way they are to each other with any kind of poetic taxonomy. It's all too much to be defined, though, to be pinned down and written out in any of the words he knows. Love feels far too tame and simple a word for the enormity of this, for the impossible weightless lurch in his stomach when Harry walks through his front door, for the incandescence of Harry when he meets Nick's eyes and smiles. And it doesn't fit in all the stupid, perfect imperfections that make up their daily life together, the screaming fits of laughter over ridiculous inside jokes, the constant flow of banter, the teasing. If there's a word for what they have, Nick's pretty sure it hasn't been invented yet.

What he does know, though, as the sweaty slide of their skin goes clammy and Harry nuzzles into him to stop him moving to reach for the duvet, pressing his smile against Nick's throat, is that whatever they are is exactly what Nick always wanted. 

What he never even knew that he was looking for, until he found it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have done the math just now, and as of about May 2013, I will have been reading fanfiction and lurking about in one fandom or another for fifteen years.
> 
> FIFTEEN YEARS. 
> 
> So, like. Of course the very first fic I ever finish writing, and actually post, is a piece of utterly plotless pornography with intensely sappy feelings, that I wrote in a single day, about a Radio 1 DJ and a member of One Direction. Of COURSE it is. 
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed it. Welcome to the world of Published Authors of Fanfiction, self. It's been a long time coming. 
> 
>  
> 
> Heh. Coming.


End file.
